Editor's Note

The Charge

Opening Statement

I have it easy. If I was ever asked to select what I thought is the best film
to ever come out of classic-era Hollywood there would be no need to waffle in
indecision, because for me there is only one single, inevitable answer:
Holiday, of course. Known more often than not as "that other
film Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn made in 1938," for one reason or
another, Holiday has never quite seemed able to escape from the long
shadow cast by the canonical, much-loved and much more famous Bringing Up Baby.

And don't get me wrong—Bringing Up Baby is an excellent film,
and there are countless films from studio-era Hollywood that I dearly love, but
Holiday always seems to loom large in my mind, even if the reasons why
are hard for me to articulate. It certainly has something to do with the joy of
witnessing two Hollywood icons working at the top of their game, capitalizing on
their effortless sexual chemistry, and I love the literary humor playwright
Philip Barry gives the script, and how it compliments rather than clashes with
the screwball-inspired physical comedy. It also has something to do with my
appreciation for the script, which allows big ideas and tough issues to cut the
laughs short with a cutting poignancy. And I endlessly marvel at the elegance in
which perpetually underrated director George Cukor mixes and balances all of
these elements with an effortless grace. Yes, there are plenty of reasons why
this film is great, but there's just something that makes
Holiday—dare I say it?—sublime.

Facts of the Case

Holiday actually takes place between two holidays. At the beginning of
the film, Johnny Case (Cary Grant, North by Northwest) and Julia
Seaton (Doris Nolan) are just arriving back from a trip from Lake Placid where
in a whirlwind romance they have met, fallen in love and decided to marry. It is
only back in New York City that the happy-go-lucky Johnny finds out that Julia
is one of "those" Seatons—a member of one of the oldest and
wealthiest families in New York, and it doesn't take long before ideological
differences begin to poke holes in Johnny and Julia's starry-eyed romance.
However, Julia's sister, the high-spirited Linda (Katherine Hepburn, Long Day's Journey Into Night) thinks
Johnny is a refreshing jolt to the stultifying atmosphere of the family's
privileged lives, and sets out to vigorously promote the pairing to the sisters'
stuffy and money-minded father (Harry Kolker).

As the wedding day approaches, it becomes increasingly clear that Johnny
might abandon his idealistic dreams and settle down to a conventional life
working at the Seaton family's bank. Will Johnny recognize the better course for
his life—and more ideal life partner—before it's too late?

The Evidence

While doing some research for this review, I made an unexpected discovery: it
seems Holiday is also the favorite film of my favorite working film
critic, Salon.com's Stephanie Zacharek. In 1997, for a feature Salon did called
"Reel Dreams: Personal Bests," Zacharek wrote a short piece on why the
film is so special to her, and I would like to use her opening lines as the
springboard to launch my own celebration of this marvelous film:

"There's almost no movie that makes me as wistful as Holiday
does, and I can't figure out exactly why. Even after it's over, even after I
know disaster's been averted, that Cary Grant didn't futz up and chose the wrong
partner, I still feel unsettled, as if the move has somehow cut too close for
comfort. It's just that a mantle of sadness hangs over this most stylish of
comedies—weightlessly, like a silk web—and afterward, I always feel
as if it's quietly drifted onto me, too. Holiday never cheers me up, but
it always opens me wide."

I feel inadequate of any kind of elaboration (as is often the case after
reading Ms. Zacharek's writing), mostly because she nails so completely my own
thoughts and emotional reaction to this film. Perhaps that helps explain why
Holiday has never quite received the attention or praise that it
deserves—the source of its beauty and emotional resonance always seems to
remain elusive. Holiday doesn't make audiences laugh like the other
screwball comedies Grant and Hepburn were paired in, and it doesn't hit its
audience over the head with its tragedy like latter-period Hepburn and Grant
films like Long Day's Journey Into
Night and An Affair to Remember.
Rather, after about five viewings, I've come to realize that Holiday is
deliberately obscure regarding its tone and intentions. On the surface, the film
might come off as a remarkably frivolous film, but I'm always surprised at the
lump that has formed in the back of my throat as the film barrels towards its
conclusion. Zacharek is absolutely right—despite the happy ending, there's
something to Holiday that makes one contemplative, if not deeply,
indescribably sad.

That's what makes Holiday such a hard sell—it's a tragedy
wrapped up in a comedic package. It's readily-apparent refinement—the
incredible Seaton family mansion, the upper-class social delicacy and
discretion, the amazing gowns—serve as smoke and mirrors that hide the
script's vicious fangs, as Holiday sets two overarching American
ideologies against each other and allows them to mercilessly rip each other
apart. Julia and her father represent the common goal of accumulating great
material wealth, and they inevitably lock heads with Linda and Johnny, who
dearly hold onto their right to life, liberty, (and most importantly) the
pursuit of happiness.

Much of Holiday is dedicated to demonstrating how this clash of life
philosophies can trap and destroy all those involved, and the two characters in
the film most in danger of being crushed is Linda, and also her younger brother
Ned, played with heartbreaking despair by a young Lew Ayres (Johnny Belinda). Linda mentions to Johnny
at one point that Ned had been a promising musician before his father had forced
him into the family business, and as a result it seems Ned has given up on life,
living his life in a constant alcohol-induced haze. So when Ned is unable to
break free of his domineering father's grip on his life, turning his back on the
escape route Linda offers him, it's a moment of complete emotional devastation.
I also marks the point in the film, when characters' futures are in chaos and
entire lives are on the verge of being shattered, that it seems Holiday
has become something more than a film, and somehow something nameless and vital
and real is about to break apart.

Though the film always remains swathed in its polished classic Hollywood
patina, the gloves are off and it's delivering savage, unflinching emotional
blows, and the only consolation is to witness the only two characters still
capable of escaping at the film's close—Linda and Johnny—finally
break away once and for all. The kiss between the two during the film's final
fadeout not only gives the happy realization that true love has finally
conquered, but one is also left with the impression that two vibrant lives have
narrowly avoided complete and utter destruction.

Considering how much I love it, and how important of a film I think it is, I
have to admit that I'm quite disappointed in how poorly this release of
Holiday both looks and sounds, and I wish I had a VCR handy to analyze my
much-worn VHS copy of the film to compare. As is, this transfer doesn't seem to
be much of a step up in terms from VHS in terms of image quality, as there are
obvious scratches and blemishes, and there are several points throughout the
film where the image appears to go briefly out of focus. The audio track seems
equally mediocre—though admittedly it's not nearly as noticeable as the
flawed image quality.

As far as extras go, there is a brief featurette titled "Cary at
Columbia," that quickly details the films Grant made for Columbia Studios
(including Holiday, Only Angels Have Wings and The Talk of the
Town). The other bonus feature is much more interesting—a featurette
displaying stills from the initial opening scene set at Lake Placid that was
ultimately cut from the film (and ultimately lost). Offered up by George Cukor's
estate, it is the first time the images have been presented to the general
public, and is exactly the kind of material that can make DVD bonus features so
valuable. Other than that, there are throwaway theatrical trailers for It Happened One Night, His Girl Friday and Sense and Sensibility.

Closing Statement

Zacharek finishes her analysis of this film with a brief anecdote about how
several days after watching it for the first time she found herself wandering
listlessly around a video store, yearning for another Holiday. Finally,
her husband had to tell her simply that "There isn't one."